


The Scars Left Behind By Your Touch

by Ottermouse



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Martin's crush on Jon acknowledged, Other archival assistants mentioned, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Sad ending due to canon compliantness, Spoilers, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 03:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20302483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ottermouse/pseuds/Ottermouse
Summary: Martin is lonely and goes to Tim for help.Spoilers up through episode 140 or so.





	The Scars Left Behind By Your Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something about how Martin ended up where he is in Season 4 and somehow it became this.

Martin misses Tim.

One would hope so. They’d only been co-workers for several years, even hanging out outside of work hours with Sasha. They had called themselves friends.

But it was more than that. Tim had been the only one who’d ever touched him so intimately, and with him gone, Martin felt himself fall into a deep, self-consuming longing for any kind of physical contact. The same kind that had caused him to proposition Tim in the first place. But this was worse. Because now Martin knew _ exactly _ what he was missing out on.

He’d first approached Tim a few weeks after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives. The air felt frigid and tense at work, everyone jumping at any sudden sound or movement. Martin had successfully moved into a new flat, but had yet to really settle in. He felt unease at work and hollowness at home and his mother was continuing to refuse his visits. He had dozens of half-written letters to her in his bin. How could he properly explain any of this to her? To anyone? He’d already given a statement to Jon and the police and he felt all statemented out.

He’d gone to a bar, thinking maybe it could help him to forget for a bit, but found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the memories of everything. He had hoped that someone would come up to him, offer him a drink, or a kiss, or a quickie in the back, anything at all. But no one did. No one ever did.

So he went to Tim.

“I need to ask you something,” he’d whispered to the other man a few days later.

“Alright,” Tim replied, sitting up attentively.

“Um, not here,” Martin’s eyes glanced over at Sasha’s currently empty desk. He didn’t want to risk her coming back from her break at an inopportune time.

“Ok, then,” Time said slowly, standing from his chair. “Where to? Document storage? Artifact storage? No one’s likely to bother us in either of those places.” 

“Yes! Document storage sounds good.” He’d lived there, was familiar with it. He’d held Jon there.

They walked together quietly, Tim surprisingly able to hold his questions despite his curious expressions. He kept it together until they both entered the room, door shut behind them. 

“So, what do you need to ask of me and why do I get the feeling that it has to do with a dead body that needs burying?”

“W-what?! No, it’s not that!” Martin flushed, realizing what his prior words and urgency must’ve sounded like. “I just- I want- Would you have sex with me?”

Martin squeezed his eyes shut. The words had left his mouth and now he was going to have to deal with the consequences.

“I- _ Martin_,” Tim let out a flustered puff of air. “Why are you asking _ me?” _

“You, you have a lot of experience, and you’re… very pretty.”

“Oh yeah, especially with all these worm scars.”

“No, really!” Martin felt his face grow even warmer. “They… you pull them off. Makes you look rugged.”

“Right.” He didn’t sound like he believed a word of it. “Besides, why aren’t you asking Jon? He’s the one you’ve got feelings for.”

“Jon’s our boss! I don’t- that definitely breaks some rules, I just- _ Tim. _ You’re my friend, and I’m comfortable around you and I-” Martin sighed. “I don’t know who else to ask. I’ve tried going the one night stand route, but every time I got close it just felt so _ wrong _ and if I’m going to lose my virginity I want it to be with someone I actually _ like. _ And I trust you to be professional about it afterwards.”

“Wait, lose your virginity?!”

“I know, twenty-eight years old and never so much as touched another man’s cock, it’s pathetic. That’s what happens when you drop out of school to take care of your mum during the time people are experimenting the most. And I mean,” Martin looked down at his body. “I’m not someone people take second glances at.”

“Martin, this isn’t something you should just throw onto anybody because you want to get it over with. You’re right, your first time _ should _ be someone you like. Someone you truly care for.”

“That’s why I’m asking you!”

“Well, the answer is no. We all know I’m not the one you really want. What even brought this up?”

Martin hung his head, heels digging into the ground. “I just… want to feel something, I suppose. Feel something without being afraid of how it might hurt me. Feel something that overrides everything else so that I can just _ forget _ for a little while.”

Martin’s voice hitched as his eyes began to sting.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said gently. “Look, I’m not willing to have sex with you, I don’t think that would help. But maybe this will?”

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Martin in a tight hug. Martin quickly hugged him back, laying his head against Tim’s collarbone. The human touch felt so wonderful, and the whole situation never would have escalated beyond that if Tim hadn’t chosen to run his fingers through Martin’s hair.

He let out a shuddering, high-pitched moan, arms clinging tighter around Tim’s back. Then he immediately jerked away, face bright red again as he forced words to blubber out of his mouth. 

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean- that wasn’t what I- I’m sorry!” He tried to run past the other man to flee out the door, but Tim easily stopped him, arms pulling him back. Martin stilled, tense, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“I’m assuming you don’t get hugged very often.”

“No,” he whispered.

“Do you _ ever?” _

“Not in a while.”

“Any kind of human touch?”

“Just, accidental ones. Bumping into someone in a crowd, fingers brushing when handing Jon a statement…”

“Goddamnit, Martin, humans need physical contact to survive. Babies can die from the lack of it. Martin, you’ve starved your body of this and it’s just reacting to that.”

“It’s not as if I chose to do this to myself.”

“I’m not saying it is. Look,” Tim placed an arm around Martin’s shoulders. “There’s that big, comfy, not-haunted chair further in document storage. Let’s take a break and cuddle there, ok?”

“I’m, umm…”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“No, it’s alright, I’m just not quite used to the idea of non-romantic cuddling? I mean, I know it’s a thing, but I uh, never had anyone to do it with so I don’t know how it’s going to go.”

“Well, we’ll try it out and you can let me know what you think.”

Ten minutes later, and Martin thought it was the best sensation in the world.

He and Tim had fumbled around a bit, trying to find a position that suited them both. They ended up with Tim sitting in the chair with Martin sitting in his lap sideways, so that his legs hung over one of the chair’s arms. He lay his head against Tim’s chest, whose arm was curled around his back, hand resting on his side. It was strong, muscled, and it made Martin feel safe, protected, and warm.

Time came in and out in drowsy waves while they sat entwined together. He couldn’t tell how quickly or slowly the minutes were passing, and it didn’t matter. Everything was the present and the present was where he wanted to stay.

He placed his palm flat on Tim’s chest, watching it rise and fall with each breath. He moved it up Tim’s shoulder and down the arm resting on his leg, settling in the ditch of his elbow. Martin felt Tim thumb his waist and he let out a contented sigh, burying his head deeper into his neck. If one thing were to come from this, it was that he would never be satisfied with his weighted blanket again. Not when actual, heavy, soothing human contact felt like _ this_. 

By the time Tim shook him gently and said that they needed to go back to work, Martin was half-asleep, grumbling out unintelligible words of protest.

“I’m assuming you liked that?”

“Mmhmm,” Martin mumbled. “Can we do this again?”

“Of course, just let me know.”

Tim pressed a kiss onto the top of Martin’s hair and ruffled it as they walked back into the main archives.

It became a regular thing for the two of them, taking cuddle breaks several times a week. It helped soothe him (Martin hoped that it also applied to Tim) as the goings-on at the Archives became increasingly more stressful.

Then they found out about Sasha. Not before getting trapped in never-ending tunnels by Michael. And then they found a dead body in Jon’s office. And then Tim left.

It was only for a few weeks, but Martin had slowly felt himself break down without a way to relieve the various emotions bubbling around inside of him. There were more people, newer faces working at the Archives, and while they were friendly, he wanted Tim. The one who he’d experienced all this hell from the beginning with.

Eventually he did come back. But he was unfamiliar. More bitter and angry and full of the need for revenge. It scared Martin a little, but he continued to do his best to listen and be helpful and try to make their lives easier to swallow.

The cuddles still happened, but they became more and more infrequent due to Tim refusing and then Martin simply becoming afraid of asking. He had noticed that Tim was more fidgety and became impatient quicker than before. 

Then, they were coming up on days just before their plans to stop The Unknowing and Elias were to go into motion, and Tim asked Martin to join him in the document storage room. This had come as a surprise to the other man since it was unusual for him to initiate, but he followed his attractive coworker none-the-less.

They sat in the plush chair together for a while. Tim’s hand was slowly brushing through Martin’s hair and he couldn’t help but rub small circles into Tim’s chest in response. Despite the intimacy, there was nothing sexual about either motion. 

Then, Tim stopped, and moved his hand to cup the back of Martin’s head, tilting it up so that they faced each other. They stared at one another, Martin’s worried, curious eyes meeting Tim’s intense ones.

Tim leaned down and kissed him. Martin was taken aback- he hadn’t kissed or been kissed by anyone in a long time, and Tim was the last person he expected to receive one from. He closed his eyes, kissing back as he brought his hand up to caress Tim’s neck. The kiss wasn’t rough or passionate or forceful, just lips pressed up against each other and it took a moment for Martin to realize that it wasn’t just any kiss.

It was a goodbye kiss.

Martin pulled back, trying not to let the tears in his eyes spill over. He looked up at Tim, who gave him a soft, sad smile.

They got up, and just before exiting the room, Martin gave him a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Any louder and he felt he might break the fragile air between them. “And good luck.”

Tim dies. Daisy dies. Jon’s in a coma. Basira is in shock. Melanie is one pin away from blowing everything up.

And Martin feels alone.

He waits by Jon’s side in the hospital when he can. Even gathers up enough courage to hold his hand a few times. But as the weeks go by it’s harder to hold on to hope. It’s harder to hold on to anything. Easier to just throw himself into work, following each and every one of Peter’s requests. Not needing to think, just being a personal assistant. Helping. Or trying to.

He misses Tim. He misses the way he’d hold him. He misses his laugh. He misses the way he’d play with his hair. He misses the way his muscles flexed under his hand. He misses his voice. Hell, he even misses his anger.

Everything is hollow, now, and most nights Martin lays in bed feeling like he’s collapsing into himself. Like his heart is just a giant black hole sucking everything into its darkness. Always empty no matter what he tries to fill it with.

The Archives are attacked by the Flesh, and while he’s terrified, it's not as traumatizing as everything else that had led up to it.

His mother dies, and he wishes he did, too.

Jon’s still in a coma- technically brain dead, not even breathing- the Eye or Beholding or whatever keeping him there. The chances of him waking up are small. Martin never even told him he loved him. Too late now.

Peter wants him to become part of the Lonely. He refuses.

Then he realizes, there’s no longer a reason for him not to. He has nothing left to live for.

At least this will be _ something. _


End file.
